


Something Coming

by ninamazing



Category: Robin Hood (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>She couldn't tell, as he stared at her, if his eyes were dark because they were so close, or if it was just that it was night.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Coming

**Author's Note:**

> For hjea. I've used some verbs that are perhaps anachronisms but I don't give a fuck. Because if they thought it was okay to title an episode "Peace? Off!" then these are probably a humorous people, who will be cool with whatever I want to do. Heh.

Little John had made one of his significant looks, when they'd made their makeshift bed together under one of the outer awnings of the camp, and Much had made a questionable comment or two — in jest, of course, for he loved his friend. Robin didn't truly mind. He found himself happy to deal with both their reactions _and_ Will and Djaq's studious lack of same.

It was quiet, for a time, in the forest. There were one or two nights when Robin and Marian forgot about the King in the Holy Land and the sheriff in the castle and the Guy of Gisborne not far behind.

One or two nights.

"I'm nervous, Robin," Marian said one night in a low hiss, mind always working even when it was time to go to sleep. She had propped her head up on one arm, and Robin was rolled up next to her on the ground. He couldn't resist reaching one arm up, feeling the muscles his bow had worked as he sailed two fingers through her hair.

"It feels like —" Marian wrinkled her nose, continuing — "it feels like this is too good to continue. Like there's something coming."

"There's always something coming," Robin replied gravely.

"I didn't believe you so often," she said suddenly, her voice breaking. "I left you alone when you abandoned your house, and I didn't take you at your word when you realised about Gisborne."

"I think you knew," he whispered. "You were just looking out for yourself." He ran a finger down her cheek. "You were smarter. You're important."

She blinked away a teardrop and smiled back at him a little, confident again. "I was." She let him hold her head a little, easing her down as he propped himself up, as he leaned over her slowly and pressed his lips to her mouth. He was soft, at first, kissing her upper lip and pulling away, kissing the bottom lip, bringing both of his hands to cover her cheeks.

"Robin," she said, almost inaudible.

She couldn't tell, as he stared at her, if his eyes were dark because they were so close, or if it was just that it was night. Or if it was something else entirely.

"I feel stupid every day," he confessed, fingers going still. "I hate myself every day for not marrying you."

"I forgive you," she told him, closing his eyes gently with the pads of her thumbs.

"I love you," he whispered into the night.

The stubble on his chin seemed to grow warmer into her touch. Marian sighed, and then there was nothing holding Robin back and he was kissing her. His hand was reaching down, down, up the loose riding shorts she was wearing to bed. Not doing anything but skating across her leg, from her knee to her hip and back, from her hip to her knee and back.

"I wish it were always like this," she said.

"I'll make it that way," he promised. "I'll defeat the sheriff. We'll go back to Locksley. The King will come home."

" _We'll_ defeat the sheriff," Marian reminded him, and his hand went underneath the hem of her riding shorts and down, then up, up, until she gasped.

"Robin," she moaned. "How many more almost-hangings to go before this over? Before you're out of the forest?"

"Don't think about that," he said, and with his mouth drew a smooth line from her collarbone to her ear. The hand that was between her legs moved faster, and Marian found herself wondering how much strength he truly built up from shooting arrows all the time, and also marveling that after pulling at a string all day his fingers were still softer than the well-worn fabric of her old pillowcase at Knighton Hall.

She pulled on the back of his head so he'd come to kiss her mouth, and he did, keeping his eyes closed and keeping his fingers against her, movingmovingmoving until Marian was weak and dizzy, until Robin was almost out of breath. They were so close together now that they could hear every rustle of clothing and hair, every intake of air and every exhale. He was so warm. She was so warm.

Robin thought that he would never be able to walk by this spot (or use these blankets) again without searching for a stain, some visible reminder that this had happened. For Marian, the arching back, the biting her lip to keep from screaming, the way Robin's arm tightened nearly imperceptibly on her shoulder, was enough. The way he kissed her again, on her mouth and nose and mouth, and told her she was good, somehow at once treating her like a dear little friend and a woman grown, was enough.

He tucked her in afterwards, against him, always protective. She knew he knew she'd remembered to tuck a knife discreetly in the bushes behind them before bed, and he knew she knew he'd forgotten to.

For a while, breathing into Sherwood's crisp night air, both of them imagined they would never have to wake to face the following morning.


End file.
